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MUSTARD I – Ch. 30 (FINALE) | KT OLLA

ALUKHO wrapped up now, as he came to end his lengthy talk. But he had just grazed the crux of the matter. The escape from the war that Moro sought.

Even so, the preacher made to end his words; for they were words to end a night.

So the young Jamaican Christian hit the nail.

He said: ‘The Messiah has since returned to Heaven. He ascended alive to be the only Way to God.

‘The only Mediator and Go-between between mankind and the Almighty.

‘That is why, in Jesus, I can be sure of the morrow ’cause He has taken care of my destiny!

‘I no longer need to appease things to, at least, survive – I settle things in my prayers through Jesus.

‘And if you accept Him as your Lord also, you won’t have to pay for your people’s sin – as you won’t stay a part of their evil from now on.

‘This is how you can escape bad fate for ever!’

Moro raised his head.

‘I want to serve Him; but you said He has returned to Heaven. So how can I reach Him?

‘Or have you His image here with you, so I can keep it?’

‘No, that is not the way?’ replied Alukho. ‘The Lord Jesus is called Emmanuel. His name means, God is with us.

‘So He’s with us and we don’t need a carved image.

‘He is God and inseparable from the Most High. So you cannot carry Him about like the idols.

‘He is the one carrying us—not the other way round.’

Moro was touched. ‘His yoke is truly easy! And then, it feels peaceful that He’s the one to carry me!’

Alukho nodded at him. ‘That is why I can fight in this war and not be afraid...

‘For the morrow is glorious – be it here at the end of war, or else in the hereafter!’

Moro gazed up now.

‘If You can do this for me, too! Please, if You can make me survive this war—then I will only pray through Your name!

‘But please hear me and answer, Jesus Christ of the Almighty! ’Cause I will no longer serve the idols nor consult occult powers.

‘So if you can hear me, please save a poor man as I!’

Those were the words of prayer that Moro said, even though they seemed unorthodox.

Still they were the best words that he could muster. Like a stutterer’s prayer to a patient God.

So, the young preacher guided Moro to pray as he led him in total surrender.

Moro lowered his head and poured his soul to God. He cried as he gave himself completely.

That night was done, so he found rest. A rest from all the toil.

Thus by that weekend, Moro was assigned to the centre’s watchpost to stand sentry there.

He went on to serve in welfare camps through the four years of the cruel war. He shifted between watchposts of quite a few camps, standing guard.

For God Most High had heard him long before he knew to call. And whilst he still stuttered, He’d kept him this secure.

Now they call this man Future, as he lived on the edge of his times. They called him Morrow—like fresh days feel to seedlings.


To Be Continued

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